Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or anything related to it. Just a story for fun.
Yu-Gi-Oh 5DS Over the Nexus: Crash Town Aftermath
The night sky, calm and dusted with stars, gave no hint of the chaos that had gripped the town just hours earlier. The serene beauty of the heavens seemed at odds with the turmoil that had only recently subsided. Below, the newly renamed Satisfaction Town glowed with warm light as celebrations carried on, filling the air with a palpable sense of joy. Yet, perched on the hills above, a solitary figure sat, shrouded in quiet melancholy.
Konami sat perched on the edge of the hill, his crimson coat trailing behind him in the faint breeze. His red cap cast a shadow over his face, partially hiding the exhaustion in his eyes. The glow of the town below flickered faintly against his reflective duel disk, a tool that had seen its share of battles. His Speedroid deck rested snugly in the slot, a reminder of the fights he had fought that day. Yet despite the calm night air, his thoughts were far from settled.
While the town rejoiced, Konami sat apart, weighed down by a gnawing sense of failure. No matter how brightly the lights of Satisfaction Town shone, they couldn't pierce the shadows that clung to his thoughts. No matter how loud the laughter and music echoed through the night, they couldn't drown out the voices of doubt in his mind. They couldn't drown out the memory of Sergio's final moments or the heartbroken faces of Nico and West. Their silent grief was etched into his mind, a reminder of the promise he had failed to keep. He had returned to Crash Town for one reason: to save their father. But instead of a rescue, his efforts had ended in tragedy. Sergio was gone, and no victory could erase the bitter truth.
He replayed the events over and over, searching for something he could have done differently. What if he had been faster, smarter, stronger? What if he had seen the boulder before it fell? What if he pushed Sergio out of the way. The questions circled endlessly, each one cutting deeper than the last.
The cheers from below felt hollow, like an echo of a triumph he didn't deserve. Satisfaction Town was free, its people liberated from the grip of despair, but Konami couldn't help wondering if the cost had been too high. What good was saving a town if it meant breaking the hearts of the very people he'd come to protect?
Konami clenched his fists, the cool night air doing little to soothe the ache in his chest. He had tried to be a hero, but now, as he sat alone in the hills, he couldn't help but feel like he'd failed everyone who mattered most.
Lost in the storm of his own thoughts, Konami didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching him. It wasn't until a shadow fell across him that he glanced up, startled, to see Misaki standing nearby.
Her long, sky-blue hair framed her face, tied into twin buns at the top of her head with the rest cascading down her back. Her white jacket, slightly oversized, hung loosely over her shoulders, contrasting with the bright yellow shirt underneath. Misaki's sharp yet calm gaze met his, and her expression was unreadable, as always—somewhere between detached and quietly thoughtful.
"... You look lonely," she said simply, her voice soft but direct. Without waiting for a reply, she eased herself down beside him, the quiet rustle of her jacket the only sound as she settled in.
He couldn't bring himself to look at Misaki, who now sat beside him. Her presence was quiet yet commanding, a subtle contrast to her gentle voice.
"Long day. Just needed some time to think," Konami murmured under his breath, the words heavy with the weight of unspoken guilt. "A lot to comprehend."
The two sat in silence, the faint sounds of celebration drifting up from Satisfaction Town below. The cool night air smelled faintly of dust and distant firewood, the remnants of the day's chaos lingering in the atmosphere. The sky, clear and endless, shimmered with stars, a vastness that made Konami feel even smaller. Despite this, Misaki's presence was a strange comfort. She didn't demand words or explanations. She just sat there, her calm presence an anchor for his storm of emotions.
After what felt like an eternity, Misaki broke the silence. "...I know you're hurting. But you accomplished a lot today." Her voice was soft, deliberate, as if carefully choosing words to avoid pushing him too far.
Konami clenched his fists, staring at the ground. The stars above seemed mocking, shining indifferently over his failures. He knew she meant no harm. Her quiet presence, her measured words - everything Misaki did was meant to ease his burden. But it wasn't enough. His guilt demanded more. It demanded punishment, judgment, someone to call out his failures and force him to confront the weight of them. The acceptance of others, their forgiveness, felt like a kindness he didn't deserve.
"No, I didn't," Konami said, his voice sharp with self-reproach. His eyes stayed hidden beneath the brim of his red cap. "I should have done more. Sergio didn't deserve that. He deserved better. He was a good man who tried his best for his family."
His words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the stillness of the night. For a moment, he feared he'd pushed her away, that his frustration and guilt had made her leave. But instead, he heard her shift, moving closer. He looked up, startled, and found her face inches from his.
Her brown eyes locked onto his blue ones, unwavering, filled with a depth he rarely saw in her. They weren't just calm - they carried something heavier, something ancient and tired, as if they bore the weight of countless unseen tragedies.
"... No, you're wrong," she said, her voice quiet but firm. The deliberate pauses that usually defined her speech vanished as she continued. "Do you think a man who cared about his family as much as Sergio would blame you? You saved his kids, Konami. You gave them a chance - a better opportunity than he ever could have. That's what he would have wanted."
Konami froze. He had never heard Misaki speak so much at once. Her words caught him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.
She straightened slightly, her gaze never leaving his. "... He knew the risks when he got involved with Malcolm's group," she continued. "… He still fought anyway. … He chose to fight, knowing what it could cost him. All for his kids."
"Still," Konami muttered, his voice quieter now, "I should have saved him."
Misaki sighed, a sound that carried more than simple exasperation. It was the sigh of someone who had seen too much, who carried burdens she couldn't share. Her gaze softened, but her tone remained steady.
"... Listen. … You can't save everyone," she said, her voice tinged with something darker, almost regret. "… Trust me. … Life can be cruel. … Sometimes, no matter how much you want to, you'll fail. … And sometimes, it's not your fault. … You saved an entire town from those gangs. … That's more than most people could ever do."
Her words were layered, as if she were speaking to him but also to herself. Konami looked at her, his guilt still heavy, but something in her words began to chip away at it. He didn't fully believe her—not yet—but for the first time, he considered the possibility that his failures didn't erase the good he had done.
"It - It doesn't feel like enough," he said quietly.
"... It never does," Misaki replied, her voice softer now, almost wistful. "… But sometimes, what we can do is all that matters. … Even if it doesn't feel like enough to us."
Her words carried a weight Konami couldn't quite place, as if she were speaking from a place of deeper understanding - of tragedies far beyond his own. He didn't press her, but for the first time, he saw her not just as a teammate but as someone who carried her own silent battles.
The two sat together under the star-studded sky, bound by unspoken struggles and the quiet comfort of shared pain.